Radioactive
by Alyssacookie
Summary: Chernobyl was the beginning of the end. From the accident to the fall of the Soviet Union: a story of the fall of an empire, and the rise of Russia. Russia/China Rochu
1. April 26 1986

Russia was no stranger to darkness.

The entire country was steeped in shadow. It pooled in their eyes and their dark, strong teas to be consumed by the men who liked things that way. Even General Winter hated the sun: his snowy cloak blotted out all light. His visits plunged the land into the same snowy purgatory that Russia had always resided in. The difference between the hazy day and night did little to affect the country. He didn't sleep much.

Sleeping left Russia vulnerable, a luxury he could no longer afford as of late. His dreams left bloody trails, saturated and twisted until they had become nightmares. He could not forget the shock of fresh blood against crisp, white snow. Russia could feel his people dying, could taste the saltiness of their bitter tears on his tongue.

Always, he could hear their screams.

They shattered the cold, sharp silence of his dreams and whisked Russia's sleep away. Even as the country loved his leaders, his Tsars and comrades, he could never achieve the same distance from his people. When they suffered, a part of Russia suffered with them. They were a part of him.

His violet eyes opened to the darkness.

Latvia yelped and leapt away from Russia's bedside, nearly stumbling over himself in surprise.

He deflated a moment later, panting against the wall that stood behind him. A shaking hand was pressed over his heart. Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump – the little country wondered if Russia could hear it beating in his throat.

The country in question was only vaguely aware of Latvia's presence. Russia's eyes bored into the ceiling. He could hear the screaming from his dreams.

Latvia breathed in sharply and looked towards the sound. Russia turned his head towards the frightened country, curious. His cheek pillowed softly on the pillow beneath him. The bigger country caught Latvia's eye, and his smile blinked on alongside the flickering lights.

"Those screams, comrade," Russia began softly, "they do not come from you?"

Latvia winced at the implication. "N-No!" he cried, flinging his shaking hands before him as if to hold off the very idea of such a thing. "And I would prefer it if they didn't anytime soon," he blurted. "I j-just came to wake you." Latvia explained hurriedly, "Something's wrong with Ukraine and we can't get her to calm down."

As Latvia continued to scramble through his explanation, Russia looked to the door. Cries of pain rolled in waves from below. The cries – now made real – roused him more fully.

On the far side of the room, Latvia trailed off with a shudder as the larger country arose. A menacing aura began to permeate the air around Russia. The room grew even colder. Latvia's quick, short breaths created crystalline clouds in the air before him. Russia moved towards the door past Latvia, his smile thin and brittle.

"W-We should get going," Latvia whimpered, sidestepping as the blonde passed. "Ukraine is – urk!"

A heavy-handed Russia patted the smaller country on the head, forcing his teeth together with a click. He pushed down for a moment afterwards with a bright smile. "You talk very much, da?" he pointed out cheerfully, his voice lilting darkly.

He released Latvia a moment later and started down the hall. The pained country rubbed his now aching neck as he scurried behind, trailing Russia at a wary distance. Latvia bit his lip, trying not to whimper from the pain.

The lights were on in Ukraine's room.

Before them her bed was empty, the blankets mussed and tangled. As Russia tried to move the half-closed door so he could enter, it only gave a little before bumping against something and refusing to budge. A whimper came from the other side.

Russia peered around the door and found his sister. She was curled between the door and the wall, eyes clenched shut and body wracked by spasms of pain. Tears clung to her plump cheeks and rolled down her collar, wetting the lace hem of her nightgown.

Her brother stepped around the door, his eyes still on Ukraine. Russia pushed the door closed behind him so there would be more room. He ignored the yelp from Latvia, who had still been in the doorway when the door smacked him.

Ukraine whimpered and curled upon herself even tighter. She began to sob as she had before, the uncontrollable sounds Russia had heard even from his quarters filling the room.

Russia cocked his head curiously. "Sister?" he muttered, stretching one ungloved hand out.

She shuddered violently then, turning in upon herself with a cry of pain.

Russia felt something twist in his side, pain blooming like a knife. A shock went through him as he pulled back, purple eyes flashing down at his sister's form. Something had happened to his sister's land – he could feel it too, though not as acutely. He thought of America only for a moment before deciding that no, the ignorant pig's boss had made his stance very clear –

And yet…

The last time he had seen Ukraine in such a state was when they were children. He had held her then, along with Belarus. His sisters had shook and screamed, turning their heads into the furs clothing their brother's chest, all three children kneeling on the floor as if in prayer.

Even a prayer wouldn't have helped them then.

Only Russia had looked. Over his sister's heads he watched as the blood was spattered on their clothes and hair, painted the floors and walls, and stained his mind to the point where it would never wash away. The sharp, metallic scent of it bit into the air. Russia had cried then, as much from the pain wracking his body as from the horror of the scene before him.

It had been 1238. The year the Mongolians attacked his country.

Latvia looked on in horror. Russia's everlasting smile had flattened into a humorless line, the menacing aura from before returning with a vengeance. The little country shirked away towards the door.

When he opened it, Estonia was standing in the way, his curled hand raised to knock. The taller country lowered his outstretched hand as his green eyes narrowed calculatingly behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He looked over the frightened county's head, taking stock of the situation.

After another moment of silence, Estonia adjusted his glasses and spoke. "Lithuania and I have placed a call to Moscow," he relayed, making sure to keep his voice calm. "They are sending emergency services right away."

Russia closed his eyes, turning away from his sister with a breath so deep it sounded like a sigh. He opened his eyes to meet Estonia's, having recollected a portion of his composure. "Are they still on the phone?" he asked.

Estonia nodded firmly. "I left Lithuania with the phone in the kitchen."

Without another word Russia moved away from his sister. Estonia back stepped out of the way as the larger country crossed out through the doorway he had been standing in. A moment after, Estonia caught Latvia's eye, the smaller country shaking from fear and relief. He appeared quite ready to faint. After looking him over and deciding that it would be best not to ask Latvia to come along, Estonia turned to follow Russia.

Lithuania nearly dropped the phone he had been cradling when he spotted Russia bearing down upon him. "Oh!" His doe eyes went wide with worry. As Russia and Estonia advanced, Lithuania's attention was pulled away. He turned to look at something inside of the kitchen instead.

Russia and Estonia followed his line of sight upon arrival, surprised that anything could interest Lithuania to the point where he could ignore the largest country in the house.

A form was leaning over the kitchen sink. As if she knew someone was watching her, Belarus whirled around not a second later, her pretty blonde hair flying about her. She narrowed her eyes at the assembled countries before her pale eyes shot wide with horror. The female country pitched forward, her arms wrapped around her midsection.

Her fellow countries turned away as the contents of her stomach splattered onto the floor.

As Belarus turned back to the sink, Estonia swiped the phone from Lithuania. Lithuania took his cue and crept towards the country currently pitched over the kitchen drain.

When Belarus resurfaced Lithuania was there, gently holding her silver-blonde locks out of the way. With his other hand he reached to turn the faucet on. For her part, Belarus slapped him away and ran the water herself.

"Do not touch me," she hissed, her eyes as sharp as ever. Belarus' glare softened as she turned to glance at Russia. "I want brother –" her demand was cut short when her stomach protested once more. Belarus was forced back to the sink.

Russia felt his own stomach turn, and he looked away. The larger country motioned for Estonia to give him the phone.

"What has happened tonight?" he asked the man on the other end of the line, the plastic receiver groaning under his tight grip. With his other hand, he rubbed the side of his face with his palm. It was 2:00 in the morning, and both of his sisters were incapacitated. Russia ignored the flashes of hot and cold worming underneath his skin.

"Hello comrade," the man on the other end began, "in order to answer your question, General Secretary Gorbachev requests your presence in Moscow tonight."

Russia allowed his eyes to drift to Belarus, who was currently still gagging over the drain. He could still hear Ukraine's cries. "When are the emergency services going to be here?"

"Another few minutes," the deadened voice answered.

It had been a useless question, he knew.

Thankfully it was only about ten minutes after he hung up that the ambulances finally arrived. By then, Estonia had retreated to Ukraine's room. Lithuania made himself useful cleaning the evidence of Belarus' sickness from the floor.

Russia met the men, in their unmarked cars and unmarked uniforms, at the door. Two of them assisted Latvia and Estonia in transporting an inconsolable Ukraine to one car. Russia permitted the other two countries under his control to accompany her to the hospital. There weren't very many doctors on the Soviet Union qualified to see to the health of countries, and his boss would rather have them all examined by that point, he reasoned. Russia let them go.

He waited outside in the darkness beside his car for a little longer. It was windy and cold, causing his scarf to wave noisily in the air.

Belarus emerged soon after, her pace slow and careful. She kept her eyes to her stride, the usual confidence in her steps gone. Russia could see the unsteadiness in his sister brought on by the sudden sickness. It did not, however, stop Belarus from loosing her patience with Lithuania's constant hovering. Every few steps when he orbited too close, she would snap her head up to glare at him and issue a threat regarding the current unbroken state of his fingers, and how she could rectify such a state.

When she finally reached her own car, Belarus waited for Lithuania to step in first. Once he did she slammed the door on him and collapsed against the side, her posture relaxing. She squinted into the darkness. Russia took in her petulant, crossed-arm stance and sighed inwardly.

Belarus didn't seem surprised when her brother stepped into her line of sight. She stayed silent as the other country approached her.

"Brother," she began once Russia came closer, her breath shallow from weariness and the cold air, "aren't you coming with us?"

Russia shook his head with a small, faint smile. "I have to go to work."

His sister's eyebrows furrowed in worried disappointment. "Sister would tell you to be careful," Belarus' gravelly voice added quietly. It wasn't a particularly happy statement. "She would say for you to stop being so silly, that you'll fall ill too."

Russia almost loved his sister for her concern. His eyes softened even as he pulled his scarf a little tighter under her scrutinizing stare, feeling unnaturally warm and exposed to the cold air. "I would tell her not to worry," he answered warmly.

Belarus wasn't fooled, and she wasn't comforted. Instead she nodded resignedly, hugged her brother, and got into the car.

It was nearly 3:00 in the morning by the time Russia was well on his way to Moscow. The country roads were abandoned at night. His capital, though, was awake. Russia drove towards the Kremlin.

The palace was lit, its ancient grace on display even through the night. His boss lived in the ordinate building now and Russia did not begrudge him that honor. He could remember the days when the castle was the home of great Tsars…and when the Red Square before it truly lived up to its name. Russia did not want the ghosts to find him as they did in his dreams.

Once inside, the country had to suffer through the security checkpoints. Russia's status got him through the preliminaries, but the closer he got to the General Secretary's quarters the more thorough the guards were. It seemed like every time Russia came they had added a new test.

Sometimes the country caught himself being nostalgic for the days when one could stroll unobstructed down the glided halls – and then he had to remind himself that such wishes were ridiculous and dangerous, especially during times such as these. It was a way to let pigs like America sneak into his heart, his home.

By the time Russia reached the meeting room the men were already assembled, and clearly had been for some time. A quick glance around the circular table told him that they too were tired. It was still nighttime.

The country glowered from the darkened edge of the room, a false smile hanging below impatient eyes.

From the far side of the table General Secretary Gorbachev halted the bickering men to acknowledge his country's presence. "Hello, Soviet Union. Please join us at the table."

Russia sat down, the chair creaking under his considerable bulk.

Once he was seated the General Secretary addressed him, and by extension, the rest of the table. "I understand that the Belarusian and Ukrainian states have fallen ill," he began. He looked over the country before him critically. "How are you feeling?"

The country's smile was stretched thin. "I am fine, da."

"Well," his boss continued, settling. "We were discussing the situation tonight prior to your entrance." He paused. "As of 2:00 this morning, we began to receive reports about an accident at the Chernobyl Power Plant, near Pripyat."

Russia felt another unwanted wave of sickness wash over him. "An accident?" he echoed hollowly. "What kind of accident?"

Another man leaned forward. "We don't know," he ground out in frustration. "Reports from the Ukrainian state have been conflicting, and the extent of the damage needs to be known before we can decide how to handle it."

From what Russia had seen from his sister, it was clearly not a minor malfunction. How could it have affected Belarus? How could it affect him?

"What we do know," someone shot back, "is that we cannot afford to release news of the accident to the public. We cannot afford to incite a panic right now."

He left unsaid what they all knew: the unrest within the states was growing, becoming something other than little rebellions that could be easily controlled.

The table dissolved into squabbles. Men muttered to one another, the confusion in the room rising. Eventually the General Secretary readdressed his country. "You are dismissed, Soviet Union," he announced, silencing the table. "You are to stop at the clinic on the way out for a cursory examination, and I will have any new work sent to you. See to it that the states currently staying in your house return as soon as possible."

Russia ignored his protesting body and simply nodded as he stood. "Da," he agreed. As he turned to leave, the men resumed their muttering.

He faked his way through the cursory examination, and besides a slightly elevated temperature the doctor could find nothing wrong with him. Russia felt dizzy.

The drive back home felt longer. As he pulled back into the driveway, the sun had just begun to rise once more in the sky. Russia released the wheel that he had been gripping so tightly. His head was spinning, his stomach was aching, and the chills were getting so bad the country could feel himself visibly shaking.

He struggled to fit his key into the lock beside the front door, his vision swimming before him. Russia felt, rather than heard, the door open. The country stumbled into the foyer before leaning heavily on the door behind him, forcing it shut.

Russia's eyelids fluttered over his violet eyes. He was just so tired.

The country slumped against the door, eyes closed.

* * *

_**Finally, the first chapter of my Rochu epic, Sunflowers, is completed! This story will be following a timeline from the nuclear incident at the Chernobyl Power Plant in Ukraine all the way to the dissolution of the Soviet Union – and a little bit beyond. I am currently expecting 15 – 20 chapters of varying length. Note that Sino-Soviet relations during this time were a little…uncertain, and that's putting it kindly. Expect quite a bit of angst. It's not going to be pretty, but there will be some sweetness later.**_

_**Poor Russia! Unfortunately, he won't be back again until chapter 3. Next chapter we go to China at the next world meeting. A cookie to whatever reviewers can guess which countries were the ones who actually found out about the accident first (because we all know that the Soviet Union wasn't exactly handing that kind of information out). Rememeber - historically correct answers! I have done a ton of research to prepare for this story, and I'm going to keep things as historically correct as possible.**_

_**Please review.**_


	2. May 1986

China climbed out of his car, stretching his cramped muscles. He rested his hand on the door and squinted against the sun. After being escorted from the airport in a car with tinted windows, the sunshine in Switzerland came almost as a surprise. The country had half-expected it to be cooler in Switzerland during May, but it was surprisingly warm.

He rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable in the heavy, unfamiliar fabric of his thick cotton suit. China could not understand how so many Western nations managed to wear such tight clothing. The sun was punishingly hot in such dark fabric, but instead of complaining China drew a few unruly strands of hair away from his face and bore the stifling heat. This was what strong, modern counties wore.

The building in Bern where Switzerland had reluctantly agreed to hold the World Conference was even more massive than China remembered. It had been a long time. Switzerland hadn't been happy to host the several days of meetings that constituted a World Conference, but he utterly refused to put any of the visiting countries up for the night. Like Austria, he deemed the endeavor 'too expensive' but was not too polite to put them out on the street.

Once he stepped into the main foyer China immediately felt lost. There were men in suits everywhere, but no countries to be found. He sighed. Any attendants of his own that might have known where to go had been left behind in the car. China didn't want to go back out into the sun to get them, not that the inside of the building offered any real relief from the heat. He had, it seemed, underestimated the extent of Switzerland's frugalness. It must cost a lot of money to heat such a large building.

China scanned the area as he walked forward, looking for a familiar face.

Yet the old nation nearly jumped when someone addressed him from behind.

"Ah, hallo China."

He spun around to find Liechtenstein smiling innocently behind him. China smiled then. How could he not? She had remained as cute as ever, wonderfully familiar in such an unfamiliar place.

"Ni hao, Liechtenstein," China greeted warmly, putting on a welcoming smile.

Liechtenstein nodded, flushing a little from the attention. "I'm sorry to bother you," she twittered, her voice high and soft, "but I saw you there and thought that you looked a little lost, perhaps? Would you like me to show you to the conference room?"

"Yes," China answered gratefully, "thank you for your help."

The little country gave a tiny smile at that. "Think nothing of it," she responded, stepping around him. "Big Brother wanted me to come check and see if any other countries had arrived before Germany opened the meeting. If you would follow me," Liechtenstein directed, striding forward.

China frowned as he followed her. He tended to leave a little late for meetings.

It wasn't his fault, really, he reasoned as he observed the crowded conference room that Liechtenstein led him to. He was a very busy country after all.

Being late had its benefits. He had avoided being cornered by Korea as Japan had, China noted with relief upon seeing the two engaged in a rather one-sided conversation in the corner of the room.

Nor had he been coerced into joining one of England and France's trivial arguments. He heard the pair before he spotted them. They had amassed a crowd already, including a smirking Spain beside his long haired friend. If China had been on time England might have tried to get him to join his side. It wouldn't have been fair to either of them in that case, since he detested both England and France equally.

China had also been spared the brunt of the passive-aggressive aura crackling between Russia and America. Looking around, though, he didn't actually see either of the two. Hopefully they would be late also.

No such luck.

"Hey!"

The loud greeting came directly in China's ear at the same time as someone roughly clapped him on the shoulder from behind. He bristled and turned, wrenching his shoulder away from the intrusion.

It was America.

He didn't seem perturbed by China's reaction. "There you are, finally," he groaned, stretching out the final word to get the full extent of his perceived pain across. "I've been waiting for you forever."

China stared. He felt that he, of all countries, would have the best grasp on just how long forever was. The few minutes before a meeting weren't even close.

Part of him wished that he was less inclined to accept America as an ally. Despite his excitable attitude, the fact remained that America was one of the most powerful countries in the world. Even as China aspired to make his way to 'world power' status, he needed powerful friends. He wouldn't be taken advantage of twice, however, and China resolved to keep America out of his country's private business. Let him think that he was showing a communist country the light.

A voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Everyone sit down!" Germany thundered, standing at the head of the long table in the center of the room. "We have dawdled long enough and it is time to begin."

China looked at America and tried to be polite. "It is nice to see you also, America. I hope that we could talk later…maybe."

"Uh, yeah!" The blonde agreed. "I'll catch you after the meeting."

"Right," China agreed brusquely.

He escaped to his seat beside Vietnam, grouped together with the other Asian nations. She was normally quiet, a welcome change from Japan's silent disapproval and Taiwan's more vocal complaints. Vietnam also served as a buffer between China and Korea. While he was grateful for Korea's friendliness, China could do without his constant harassment. He appreciated Vietnam's silent but consistent support.

It took China a few moments to realize that the chairs to the other side of him were empty. Vietnam raised an eyebrow at the missing Eastern European countries, but said nothing. The entire group from China all the way to Austria was missing.

The room steadily quieted as the assembled countries noticed the vacant seats.

A moment later, China, along with the rest of the room, looked to America.

England broke the tension. He whapped America over the head with his notepad, eyes narrowed. "Bloody idiot," he snapped, "what on Earth did you do?"

"Hey!" the younger country whined, flailing his hands above his head in an effort to buffer the attack.

_Thwap._

"I didn't do anything!"

_Thwap._

"Just listen-"

_Thwap._

"Stop it, would'ja?" America deadpanned, staring at the crazed country beside him.

England hesitated. In that moment, the country behind him snatched the papers away. When England whirled on him with a glare, France tutted condescendingly.

"Always so barbaric," he sighed.

The country in question flushed indignantly. "If America weren't such a git," he defended, "I wouldn't have to hit him!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Seychelles chimed in from the far end of the table. She twirled one of her ponytails around her little finger nonchalantly. "I don't think you need to hit him."

"Violence is the only language he understands," Vietnam interjected drily.

China raised his eyebrows. He knew Vietnam to be completely stoic, but he could almost detect vitriol in her voice.

For his part, America looked a little hurt. "Whoa, guys!" he exclaimed. "I told you I didn't do anything."

"Bull," Cuba coughed into his fist.

America glared over the wispy blonde seated between him and Cuba. "Dude," he snickered tightly, "let it go."

The other country looked towards the ceiling, considering the suggestion for exactly half a second. "Nah," he decided, shrugging.

"Shut up, all of you!" Germany roared, slamming his palms flat on the tabletop. "We have a meeting to get through today. If you want to speak, speak to me afterwards and I will put you on the schedule. For now," he paused to look down at his notes, "I expect you all to shut up and listen to what Finland and Sweden have to say."

A murmur swept through the room. The Nordic countries tended to keep to themselves. It was rare for one to comment on something during a meeting, and even more rare for one of the five countries to be one of the main speakers.

China tapped his pen on the wooden surface absentmindedly, watching as Sweden and Finland approached the head of the table. He didn't know them personally and yet part of him felt uneasy. China knew Finland to be a cheerful country, but the expression on his face looked subdued. His smile blinked back on by the time he reached the head of the table alongside Sweden.

Finland still seemed vaguely uncomfortable.

"Haloo everybody," he greeted, smiling disarmingly. The Nordic country tapped his stack of papers on the tabletop nervously, lining up the corners. "Okay," Finland sighed to himself, glancing down at his notes before addressing the table. "Does everyone know about the events of April twenty seventh in the Soviet Union?"

A few moments of baffled silence passed. Finland's grin wilted at the corners. "There was an accident in Ukraine, at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant –"

"Oh, yeah!" America exclaimed, perking up suddenly. "That? My boss said something about it. Didn't one of their reactors get damaged or whatever?"

Finland winced. "That's a bit of a broad statement," he answered reluctantly.

"See?" the other country cut back in confidently. "This is why Russia should leave all of that nuclear stuff to real American scientists. Everyone knows that communists aren't as smart –"

China bit his tongue and glared daggers at America. Vietnam along with a few other countries cut their eyes at him but said nothing.

A large part of China was grateful for Cuba's interruption. "Sí, sí," the indignant country mocked, "and this is coming from the brilliant mind behind the Bay of Pigs invasion."

"Dude," America groaned, "I said I was sorry."

Cuba snorted. "You're sorry you got caught being stupid," he quipped, taking his cigar out of his mouth and jabbing it at the other country.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that that's the point right now?" Finland tried. "If you both would just listen for a second…"

As Finland was wholly ignored, China looked to Germany to call the meeting to order. Unfortunately, the stately blonde was occupied. It seemed that Romano had tried to explain the nature of a nuclear 'accident' to his brother. He didn't do a good job. Since Italy's only firsthand experience with nuclear energy was secondhand exposure to what had happened to Japan during the World War Two, he had gotten upset. Germany was trying to calm him down but only succeeded in irritating Romano.

While Romano was occupied, Spain was busy talking to France. Judging by the blonde country's smirk and the money passing between them the two seemed to be betting on the impending scuffle between America and Cuba.

"Guys?" Finland asked, genuinely confused at how out of hand things had gotten.

England looked appalled, stuck between America and France. China watched him seemingly berate France for betting on the argument and saw his face contort into an expression of fury upon his longtime rival's response.

"What do you mean _this is my fault_?" England shrieked. He jabbed France at his unbuttoned collar. "Listen here, you pompous, overblown, sorry excuse for a –"

"T'ere 'was n' 'xpl's'n."

Sweden's rumbling voice came as a shock to all of the assembled countries, and the group slowly quieted.

America stood frozen, hand still fisted in the collar of Cuba's shirt. "Wait, what?"

"There was an explosion," Finland confirmed tiredly. "When I called Sweden about the high radiation levels in my country, he was able to confirm the unusually high levels at the Forsmark power plant in his country. The Forsmark plant was 1100 kilometers from the blast, but the radiation levels were so high –"

America raised his hand and spoke up again simultaneously. "Um, how many miles is that?"

There was a collective sigh from the assembled nations.

"Six hundred and eighty, America-san," Japan piped up helpfully over the crowd.

"Yeah," Cuba growled, having sat down, "now shut up."

Before yet another argument could begin, China cut in. "Finland," he spoke up, "so you are saying that the accident was worse than they let on?" Not that most of the world had even heard about the incident until now.

Finland nodded. "Yes, much worse."

"But not like 'explosion' worse, right?" Italy asked hopefully.

Finland immediately looked remorseful. "Well, I suppose that there were no official reports –"

"Yes." Sweden answered flatly.

The country beside him gaped at the tall, intimidating country. Of all the times for him to speak clearly..!

Another round of muttering broke out amongst the nations, some angry voices rising over the crowd.

"I suggest that you all make a phone call to your bosses later on today," Finland offered, "especially if you are north west of Ukraine."

England was well ahead of the curve, bushy eyebrows furrowed as he held his phone to his ear.

China glanced to the empty seats beside him before asking another question. "If there was an explosion, could that be the reason Russia isn't here today?"

"Hopefully," America snickered.

"I would have to agree," Japan chimed in, and China raised an eyebrow at his casual cruelty. "It's fully possible for that to be the cause."

China frowned. Part of him felt as indignant as the others, annoyed about not having been told about the scale of the danger. Yet a tiny piece of him couldn't help but to feel a little anxious for his northern neighbor. He didn't like Russia either, but China didn't necessarily wish a nuclear accident upon any country. No one did. If they had, this 'Cold War' would have been over a long time ago.

By the time the meeting wrapped up for the day it was getting late.

Aside from Finland's admission, very little else had gotten done. The assembled nations speculated amongst themselves instead of moving on, and China couldn't fault them for that. An event with such a huge impact was worth thinking about.

Even Germany had remained distracted. He was talking to Austria, though instead of conversing across the table the Germanic nations were standing beside Austria's seat. Both countries looked weary. Like China, the place beside Austria sat empty, only it had been vacant for much longer.

China knew better than most what had happened. Countries like Hungary, Prussia, and Poland had already been under Soviet control long before they stopped appearing at meetings. Russia had already taken the place of all of the Soviet Union states, so no one complained when countries such as Ukraine and Belarus stopped coming. It was Hungary's rebellion in 1956 that had ruined it for the rest of them. She hasn't been heard from in a long time, though China suspected that Germany occasionally found ways to speak with his brother.

The twinge of guilt he felt surprised him. China had been there when the decision was made to cut nations under Soviet control off from the rest of the world, and had even goaded Russia for being too soft. He didn't regret it. Russia and the entire Soviet Union were still weak in his eyes. It was just business, and in order for a country to be strong sometimes others had to suffer. Having been a country at both ends of such a policy, China understood their pain but couldn't afford to make himself responsible.

Shaking his head, China stood and collected his things. He had decided to take his time leaving in order to watch the other countries, but it was getting late now and he was exhausted.

"Hey China," America greeted brightly, putting his empty briefcase down on the table beside him. The Asian country sighed and collected the papers that had been scattered by the sudden gust of air.

He straightened and turned to America once he was done. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked sharply.

The blonde ignored China's tone. "Yeah, well I was thinking that we could go get something to eat around here. I'm starving."

China allowed the silence following America's question to drag on. Truly, he didn't want to go out now that it was so late at night. "I'm not hungry." Not for McDonald's, anyway. Surely America would find one, and they were always open.

His negative response didn't phase America.

"You can get coffee or something if you want," he suggested. "My boss wanted me to make sure I talked to you at some point, so I figured we could do it now."

Nevermind that there were still several days left in the World Conference.

China perked up when another voice entered the conversation.

"Ah, America-san, I am glad to have caught you before you left."

Japan stood off to the side, having approached as silently as ever. His back was to China.

"Oh hey Japan," America greeted brightly. "I didn't see you there."

China hadn't thought it possible, but Japan seemed to stiffen even more than usual. "Ah, well I was just talking to Italy. He is very upset. Did you know that he and his brother are considering shutting down their nuclear science program?"

The Asian country currently being ignored raised both of his eyebrows. Japan certainly could be talkative when he wanted to be.

"Eh? No, I didn't know that. That sucks." America commented, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But I'll seeya tomorrow, okay? Me and China were actually just about to head out."

Japan's eyes widened ever so slightly. He turned slightly to the side, just enough to make eye contact with the older country. "Ah, I apologize," Japan offered icily. "Konnichiwa China-san."

China smiled self indulgently. "Hello to you also, Japan," he answered, entirely in English. Then he turned towards America. "Actually, I think I will take you up on your offer. I am suddenly very much in the mood for tea."

"Oi, America! Don't try to hide from me!"

All three countries looked over at Cuba, only to find that he wasn't talking to America at all. He was yelling at a vaguely familiar fair-haired country currently cowering in the chair that had been between Cuba and America's respective seats. The two Asian countries looked on in confusion.

In contrast, America relaxed. "Oh, cool," he sighed, grinning. He turned away from the scene and clasped China's shoulder. "Let's get out of here before Cuba figures out that he's not yelling at me."

"B-But I'm Canada," someone wailed.

As America turned to go, he remembered Japan. "Hey," he commented offhandedly over his shoulder, "we can talk later, right?"

Japan's eyes flashed between the two. "That is fine," he agreed tersely.

"Awesome," America cheered, grinning before leading China out the door.

China's good feelings from stumping Japan lasted until America pulled him into a hotel and dragged him into the restaurant on the ground floor.

"America," China whispered sharply as he allowed himself to be lead to a table, "this is not what I agreed to."

In retrospect, calling the ground floor of the hotel a restaurant was a gross exaggeration. It was a bar.

"Why?" America asked obliviously. "This is great. I'm sure you can get tea here or whatever. Plus, this is my hotel, so when we're done I can go to bed."

"Stupid westerner," China muttered, glaring at the country sitting down across from him. He felt himself loosing his patience. Now he would have to call his attendants from the hotel's phone, and explain to both them and his boss why he was leaving a strange hotel so late at night. China had been tired before, but now he felt exhausted.

He had never wanted his traditional clothes more. The suit he was still stuck in was far from a small comfort.

America swiped a menu, oblivious to China's frustration. "They have all these breads and cheeses," he muttered in wonder, looking over the pages. "Do you think they have a bunch of chocolate too?"

"You already have chocolate!" China pointed out, exasperated. "We stopped at a supermarket on the way here."

The other country dropped the menu and dug into his jacket pocket. He pulled out the chocolate a moment later. "Hey, thanks for the reminder. Can you believe they have a whole isle just for chocolate?" America asked, taking a bite.

China chose not to respond, instead rubbing his temple as his looked over the menu. His heart sank as he looked over the drinks. Not only did the bar not sell tea, but nearly everything that was offered was alcoholic. Switzerland seemed to have an affinity for his ciders, beers, and wine. China put the menu down with a sigh.

In the end, the country opted for water and tried not to be surprised when America ordered what looked to be about half the menu, still munching away at his chocolate.

"So," America drawled after their waiter left. "My boss was thinking about us coming to visit this October."

"That's probably for the best," China admitted, taking a long drink. It would be better to plan ahead considering how busy he had been as of late. "I will talk to my boss about it." He had accompanied his boss to America in 1985, he remembered, and couldn't deny that he had been impressed.

His sudden friendship with America had come as a shock to many countries, including China himself. America had reached out first, but it was a visit to Beijing in 1971 alongside his boss that had shocked the world. Most of the other nations had been pleased. More importantly, many of the countries China was on bad terms with felt threatened. Japan had been forced to follow his trade partner's lead, Taiwan finally lost her status as 'mainland China', and though Russia himself stayed silent, Soviet policies were beginning to loose their ferocity.

"What do you think about that whole thing in Russia?" America asked suddenly.

China set his drink down. "It wasn't in Russia," he pointed out. "The Chernobyl power plant is in Ukraine."

"Same thing," the other country replied, waving his hand. "Russia represents the Soviet Union, right? It probably affected all of them."

"You really think that's why he didn't come to the Conference?" the Asian country asked, preferring to be skeptical.

He took note when America's good cheer seemed to sober up. "Well, remember how sick Japan got after the second World War? Between the military attacks and his economic situation…"

China stiffened, understanding what America was alluding to. He was uncomfortable just thinking about it – Japan had nearly died as a result of what America had done to him.

Yet the country before him was smiling. "We already had Russia on the ropes before this. If that thing at Chernobyl is really as bad as Finland thinks, we might not have to wait much longer. He could be lying on a floor somewhere dying right now."

"I…" China had forgotten how cruel America could be. "It wouldn't be as bad as that," he decided, waving him off.

"Well I think so," America disagreed, suddenly distracted at the sight of a waiter across the room carrying a tray of food. "I talked to England. He was all upset 'cause he's gonna have to move four million sheep so they don't eat radioactive grass." He laughed a little. "I don't see what the big deal about that is, though. Could you imagine sheep with super powers? If that happened, I would totally want one."

China rolled his eyes at America's silliness, still feeling a little rattled.

He didn't say so, but without talking to him about it, the Soviet Union had recently dropped a long-standing border dispute between their countries. There had also been an embargo in place between their countries but at some point they had started trading again. It wasn't much, but China did not want his northern neighbor dead.

China must have looked uncomfortable, because America hesitated. He stopped before digging into his food, squinting at the country across the table. "Hey, you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," China responded.

America laughed again. "Dude, you need to relax. You haven't even loosened your tie."

The Asian country looked down at his red silk tie. He hadn't even considered undoing it.

"Here," America grunted, leaning across the table, hands outstretched. China tried to move away as the other country gave his tie a sharp tug, unraveling the fabric from his neck.

And knocking over his water glass.

The Asian country narrowed his eyes at the mess in his lap and reached for the napkins. America pulled away, still clutching the tie. "Don't jump away like that," he suggested, laughing nervously, "I wasn't going to hurt you."

China busied himself with getting the freezing water off of his skin before balling up the napkin in frustration. He gave up.

"I have to go," he decided, standing. "I will see you at the meeting tomorrow."

"You sure?" America asked, mouth full of food.

China squeezed the napkin in his fist. "Goodnight America."

He left the cloth balled up on the table.

* * *

**_GOOD GOLLY GAWSH this chapter was long. I'm sorry that it took so long, but I hope everyone feels that it was well worth the wait. Russia and China finally meet next chapter and it's gonna be deliciously awkward!_**

**_I think the hardest part about writing this story is doing all of that research and not packing a chapter with facts. I want everything to sound a least kind of natural without leaving out something important. I did soooo much research, dammit._**

**_Review responses:_**

**_ThePipeSmokingCat - You are a lovely lovely. Thank you for giving me such a great review! You were right, of course. I considered doing so much with the official statistics of what happened, but in the end decided to go with something that felt more natural instead of flexing all the stuff I researched about the aftermath. *sigh*_**

**_Guest - Um...yes? You're right, but I already knew that stuff. ^_^; The title's ironic - my story is going to seriously debunk why exactly people always show Russia with flowers, even though it doesn't quite make sense._**

**_N92.9141b - Your review made me smile, because I am a fangirl and I love to make others get the feels. ;)_**

**_Reviews = excellent incentive to update faster._**


	3. June 1986

Another World Conference came and went.

China removed his sunglasses as he boarded the plane home, narrowing his eyes at the interior of the cabin. It was cooler inside, but the country still felt disgusting. His hair was listless and disheveled from the heat in the air. He grimaced as he plucked a few limp strands from where they were sticking to his cheek. The suit he wore was even more uncomfortable under the relentless June sun.

His attendants swarmed in behind him. They gave China space as they fluttered around, preparing for the long flight home.

The nation fell heavily into a seat by the porthole windows, releasing a longsuffering sigh. China's amber eyes flickered to the outside for a moment before his gaze became shadowed with irritation. He pulled the shutter down with a sharp clack.

China closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. One hand came up to massage the back of his neck in an effort to relax. It had been a long week.

It had been a long month.

The Chernobyl accident had been a hot topic at this June World Conference too. It seemed as if the entire world was abuzz with the news; all except for one country.

No one had heard from Russia.

China opened his eyes and stiffened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The Soviet Union was a lot of things in his opinion but he would have never taken his northern neighbor for a coward. What honor could he possibly have as a nation if he couldn't take responsibility for his mistakes?

His disgust was sidetracked when a man approached the nation, bowing respectfully. China relaxed himself slightly. He watched silently as the official took his place across from him, a table between them.

The official signaled to two attendants to bring them tea. Once the women had served the drinks, China unwound completely, picking up his cup and sipping quietly. Before him, the man reached underneath the table and produced a stack of papers.

He waited until China placed his cup back on the wooden surface before the debriefing began.

It was an hour before they finished reviewing the events of the World Conference.

At that point the official picked up his own tea. "Is there anything that you would have of me?" he offered after taking a drink, eyes staring at his country patiently.

China paused before answering, all remaining traces of vehemency leaving him. He fiddled with the cuffs of his suit. It was clear that the country had been mulling over his request for some time. "Do we have any diplomats going to the Soviet Union?" China asked, looking the other man in the eye.

The official raised his eyebrows. "We have a Vice Minister making periodic visits to Russia, I believe. He is to supervise our trade relations."

China understood the man's poorly hidden surprise. A Vice Minister was extremely low ranked personnel in the grand scheme of things, the type not always made privy to their sovereign nation's activities.

"I think," China began thoughtfully, unfazed, "that I would like to accompany this Vice Minister on his next visit. I have faith that you will be able to arrange that." He didn't feel the need to explain why.

The official hesitated for only a moment. "…As you wish," he relented obediently.

True to his word, China found himself crossing the border into the Soviet Union within a week.

He sat in the back of his car, shielded from the outside world behind tinted windows. It was a long drive. When the variable caravan of cars finally came to a stop, China had long since fallen asleep.

The young man who had been driving opened the door and stared at his mysterious passenger anxiously. He took in his prone form for a moment before calling out.

"Sir? Sir, we are here."

China yawned and blinked blearily at the young attendant. His groggy expression quickly switched to one of curiosity.

"Who are you?" he asked earnestly, squinting at the unfamiliar face. "I don't think that I have ever seen you before." China stared for another long moment before collecting himself. If no one had thought to introduce him to his driver before they departed there was no point in releasing information the young man didn't need to know. "Nevermind that," he decided, climbing out of the car. China then extended an open palm to the attendant. "Give me your keys."

The young man stared at his passenger's open hand in horror. It had been made clear to him that he was escorting a very important person and that he was to submit to his every request. Surely, though, his superiors hadn't meat for him to abandon this person with the car?

China tapped his foot, quickly loosing his patience. "Stop wasting my time," he snapped. Then his features softened. "I assure you that you will not get in trouble. I will be back before our return to China. Give me the keys and rejoin the Vice Minister, I have business to attend to."

Numbly, the young man handed over the keyring.

The nation took the keys and slid into the front seat of the car. "Thank you," he tossed out, starting the car, "you have done your country a great service."

He kicked up a trail of dust that the attendant watched disappear down the road.

China drove with a nagging feeling of uncertainty. It had been some time since he had been behind the wheel of a car, since his boss made a point to have him escorted everywhere.

He found himself grateful for the summer months for the first time in a while. Russia wasn't warm for very long, but the pleasant weather in June meant that he wouldn't have to compete with snow.

It had been years since he had been to Russia. So what, he reasoned, if he didn't necessarily remember the exact way to the other nation's home?

A thought struck him. What if Russia wasn't at his house? Or worse, what if he wasn't and a nation like Belarus was? Their countries were not on good terms and China wasn't looking to cause a fight.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for, exactly.

It took a while before China found anything he recognized. He trusted his intuition as a country to lead him.

When he found Russia's house he was once again struck by its size. It stood alone in a field, with only grasses and trees for miles around. As China drove down the abandoned roads towards it the midday sun stole away some of its foreboding. His mind remembered the mansion in a more frightening light, a huge and hulking form cloaked by snow.

It certainly didn't stop a knot of anxiousness from forming in the country's stomach as he parked the car down one of the adjoining roads.

China stepped out quietly and slid on his sunglasses, trying to be inconspicuous. Then he opened the back door to get his slippers. They were red and worn, a well-loved pair the nation would have worn with his more traditional clothing. China didn't want to get caught because he was in western dress shoes, clip-clopping around the property like a horse.

He resolved himself to just getting a look through the windows.

China walked across the field carefully. When he reached the large house, he crouched down alongside it. There was a small ledge above him that housed a small glass window.

The nation steadied his nerves and pulled himself up.

At first glance, China immediately saw that the interior of the house was as impressive as he remembered.

Everything that the light touched shone beautifully. There were couches and chairs with blankets folded over them in subdued, understated colors. Without being flashy the fabrics held a handmade, ornate charm with their intricate designs and tiny stitches. All of the metal ornaments scattered in his line of sight caught the sunlight and reflected it back.

It was a stunning sitting room, and it was empty.

China's eyebrows raised in surprise. The Soviet Union mansion was home to many countries, and he was surprised to not see any.

He shook his head. It was only the first room after all.

To China's frustration, the rest of the windows on the front of the house were covered by curtains. On the side of the house he found another window that he could use to see inside.

In the next room he saw the first thing that caught his eye was the fireplace. The fixture was impressive, outlined in shining, bronze-colored metal. He could see that the fire had been long snuffed out. Above the coals sat a wooden mantle. Antique candlestick holders sat atop it, with pristine, tall candlesticks.

This room was empty too.

China worked faster now, circling the house to check the rest of the first floor windows. Every room he saw was empty.

The country returned to the front of the Soviet house frustrated.

On an impulse, he tried the door.

It gave a little –

_Click!_

China released the knob with a frown. Of course it was locked. Countries rarely abandoned their houses, but if they did they didn't leave the doors open to intruders.

He turned to leave.

_Clink~_

The nation froze at the metallic sound. His head whirled around to look back at the door, heart beating fast.

It was still closed.

China turned back around, feeling both relieved and disappointed. He pressed a hand over his pounding heart.

_Clink~_

The country looked down. If he squinted, he could almost see the glint of something metallic underfoot. China moved his slipper.

Keys.

He reached down and picked up the keyring in disbelief. It didn't make any sense.

Despite his inner protests, China held his breath as he tried the door again.

It swung open silently.

The feeling of anxiousness returned. No one, least of all Russia, would have left the keys to their house just outside of the door.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," China chastised himself in his own language as he stepped over the threshold. He half expected to have a knife fly by his face at any moment.

That moment never came, and the nation closed the door behind him.

It was suddenly dark. Why was it so dark?

A moment later a realization dawned on him.

China's house lent itself to huge, floor to ceiling windows that let the sunlight in even when the lights were off. Russia's house did not have so many windows, and even some of those were covered by curtains. In a snowy country, he supposed, glass covered holes were a lot less useful.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the dimness China took a look around.

Before him the country could see a grand staircase. The marbled, polished wood wound its way up the stairs and to either side were pools of darkness. China decided not to follow either of the dark halls.

To his right, China recognized the sitting room he had seen through the window earlier. It was obvious now just now small the view had been. The sunlight still managed to brighten the room a bit.

Upon entering, China noticed some things he hadn't seen before. A television sat against the wall and a brass coat rack stood in the corner. Everything was perfectly still and quiet.

Something felt wrong. China felt the tension settle over him like a blanket, and quickly moved on to the next room.

He came to the room with the fireplace. It too was more foreboding that it had appeared. A bearskin rug lay on the floor, its mouth open in a silent roar of pain as China stepped on it as he moved to examine the fireplace.

It was cold, as he had suspected. The nation straightened and then stood on the tips of his toes ever so slightly to see the candlestick holders on the mantle. They were intricate and impressive, but something still seemed inherently wrong.

Narrowing his eyes, China ran a finger over the cold metal.

He then checked his fingertip. Dust had collected there, and suddenly it was obvious.

Having spent time with Russia before, China knew that if Latvia, Lithuania, or any other country had been in the house recently then they would have cleaned.

Yet there was dust on the mantle.

No one had been in this house for some time.

China backed away, hastily wiping his dirty fingers on his pants. He hurried back to the entrance.

His mind was reeling. How could so many nations have abandoned their house? With so many living there, something terrible must have happened to make them leave.

Shadows danced in his vision, laughing, daring him to keep searching.

China squared his shoulders, saying a quick, silent prayer against the angry spirits that probably resided in the mansion. Then he turned to his left. He was determined to find out what had happened to so many countries.

He crept forward silently, finding himself in the kitchen. A single covered window, too high up for him to reach, cast a bluish glaze over the room. Metal appliances glinted at him eerily from the opposite wall.

Beside him was a sturdy wooden table. It was surrounded by chairs, five in total, two on each side and one on the end, touching China's hip.

At the opposite end it seemed like a chair was missing.

Curious, China came around to check the vacant spot.

"Ai ya," he breathed, recoiling.

The missing chair was overturned. A body was slumped against the wall on top of it.

China choked.

"Russia?" he asked in Mandarin, disbelief catching his voice. He tried again, switching to the other country's language. "Russia?"

'_He could be lying on a floor somewhere dying…'_ America had said.

China dropped down in front of the country's prone form. Russia wasn't moving. He couldn't tell if he was breathing. It was too dark in the shadow of the table and the Oriental country had to squint to see.

He reached out and grasped the larger country's coat, his hands ghosting over his limp form before grabbing handfuls of fabric.

"Russia?" he cried, shaking the larger country. "Russia!"

It took too long for China to get a response.

He was in the middle of shaking the other country again when he heard a groan. China paused, scanning Russia's expression.

His eyelashes fluttered over his pale cheeks, flickering over confused, clouded irises.

"Wake up!" the other nation urged, shaking him once more.

When Russia finally stirred, China let him go.

One of the blonde nation's hands came up to his neck, and he groaned again. Russia's eyes opened, watery in the dim light.

"I must have fallen asleep, ehehe," he yawned, stretching.

China stood and moved away with a venomous glare. "On an overturned chair?" he pointed out skeptically, crossing his arms and ignoring his burning cheeks. "On the floor?"

Russia hadn't seemed to have heard him. He stood slowly, carefully, using the chair beside him for support. The nation balanced his weight on the wall. He seemed disoriented. Once he was standing fully, Russia shuddered.

The Asian nation narrowed his eyes. Russia looked even worse, now that he could see him in the bluish light. His skin seemed even more pale than usual somehow. There was a certain sheen to it that sparkled in the light, and it seemed strange. "What happened to you?" China asked sharply.

Russia ran a hand through his hair and squinted at the other nation's form. "China?" he asked, features open and hopelessly confused. "What are you doing in my house?"

A sudden, thick tension settled between them as China hesitated. Russia frowned, his features becoming guarded. The nation before him stiffened.

"I have no idea," China burst out. "Your house is creepy, why aren't the lights on?" Despite his sudden, sharp response the country took another step back and bumped into the stove.

Russia's eyes widened slightly, but crinkled at the corners in confusion. "China..?"

The nation in question flushed even more, indignant. His eyes drifted away, to the tabletop. "How much have you been drinking?" he yelped. Empty bottles were scattered among the papers on the table. "You missed two World Conferences because you were drunk?"

Russia looked startled, and then his features darkened. He smiled thinly and his eyes became hard. "You should be leaving now."

China was too proud to seem intimidated, too foolish to take the option to leave. "Everyone knows about Chernobyl," he blurted, staring Russia down with narrowed eyes. "Why is your house empty?"

"You ask too many questions, da?" Russia pointed out, getting off of the wall. A chill swept through the air as the larger nation smiled even wider. "Unless…you are looking for trouble?"

The older country slid away, shaking slightly, trying not to show that he was afraid. Russia's eyes glinted, hard in the dim light. "Fine," he spat.

Russia did not respond, his smile brittle in return. China backed away.

When the he got to the door his heart was slamming against his ribcage. China stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him. He heard the lock click.

Russia dropped his hand from the opposite side of the door, staring at the wooden surface. He was completely baffled. On top of that, he felt nauseated and sore and, despite having just woken up, he was tired.

What had China been doing in his house?

He shook his head. The other country hadn't seemed to be openly hostile, he supposed. If he had wanted to the Asian nation could have attacked him while he was weakened like this but he hadn't. China's surprise visit could be dealt with later.

Russia shuddered. It was summer, yet he still felt cold. He tried to think. The last thing he remembered clearly was getting a letter from his boss with details on the status of the accident and orders to revisit his sisters. Russia frowned. He remembered getting word from the hospital once before, a few days after the accident. His sisters had been too sick for visitors, and besides, he remembered starting to feel sick again, so he had stayed home to rest.

He remembered sleeping a lot. How long had it been?

Russia resolved himself to taking a shower and driving to the hospital afterwards. He had been feeling sick ever since the night of the accident, but between the sleeping and drinking he had been feeling a little better. Hopefully his sisters would be better too.

After showering, the nation felt even less sick.

Once he was dressed Russia returned downstairs. He looked around for his keys. Why weren't they in their usual spot? The country stopped to think. Where had he last seen them?

The night he had come home after the accident, perhaps? Had it really been that long ago?

Russia found his keys in the lock, and found that the door was open. The northern nation bristled. Had China come in once he had gone upstairs? Why? A twinge of annoyance hit him – being so careless could cost him.

China had aligned himself with America, so he couldn't be trusted.

He pulled the key from the door and walked towards his car.

The hospital was in Moscow. In all of the Soviet Union, it was the only place with a ward to treat countries.

Russia's grip tightened on the steering wheel. There was nothing one could do to heal a representative country. All one could hope to do was make one more comfortable until whatever was ailing them was resolved. Not that Russia volunteered this information to his boss. Not that his boss had asked.

China remembered the hospital too.

He had come during the second World War, when Russia had foolishly jumped out of the plane into the snow.

Really, they were nations and therefore were more resilient than humans, but there was no reason to push the limits.

Getting in was easier than China had thought. He had seen the official-looking letter on Russia's table beside the bottles, and had risked returning in order to swipe it. To his delight the letter gave him information, detailing exactly what had happened to Belarus and Ukraine in the Chernobyl accident. It had come straight from Russia's boss.

With the letter and his status as a nation, China hoped he had enough to get into the hospital and see for himself.

To his surprise, it was.

The guard standing in the doorway to his sister's room saluted Russia as he went in.

His sisters were both asleep. They looked peaceful, despite the monitors and needles that hung in and around them.

Ukraine had ugly red splotches on her face and arms. It was strange to see her like that – subdued, unsmiling. Belarus, Russia thought, looked prettier with all of the meanness smoothed out of her expression.

Russia turned to one of two nurses in the room, a question in his eyes.

"Oh!" she squeaked, immediately alarmed by the imposing presence in the room.

He waited, an eerily patient smile crawling across his features.

The nurse approached him reverently. "You must be the Soviet Union," she acknowledged.

"Da." His eyes slid over to his sisters. "How are they?"

Immediately the woman looked apologetic. She glanced over at the prone countries. "As far as we can tell, both the Ukrainian and Belarusian states are suffering from Sepsis."

Russia's eyebrows knitted together. He was not a doctor.

"That would be blood poisoning," the nurse added quickly, picking up on his confusion.

Suddenly Russia wished that he head reread the letter from his boss before leaving his house. He remembered that the Dnieper River that ran through their countries had been polluted by the accident, but how much of the fallout had landed in Belarus to make her so sick?

The nurse continued to go over her records. "They both came in with incredibly high fevers, but their fevers have since broken. It has been a struggle to get the Belarusian state to rest so we have added to her IV in order to induce sleep. Unfortunately, we have been unable to control her vomiting so someone has to be in the room at all times in order to turn her should an episode start."

She looked up from her notes. "You just missed an episode, actually. That other country who was in here was very helpful."

Russia's countenance darkened and the nurse shirked away from his obvious displeasure. He forced a smile. "Da. Good job taking care of them," the country responded tightly.

He felt warm once again but tried to ignore it.

"Who was here before me?" Russia asked, rounding on the guard by the door.

The guard looked scared. "China, sir," he answered. "He had a letter straight from the General Secretary."

Russia felt the frustration at the same time as a sharp pain stabbed him in the side. He pressed his hands to the spot with a grunt of pain.

Both the guard and the nurses came to his side.

"Mister Soviet Union?" the nurse asked, looking concerned.

He felt dizzy.

"Go get a doctor."

He looked at his hands and found a few smeared drops of blood on his palms.

"Someone, please!"

Everything turned and blinked, and he felt himself falling –

The world went black again.

* * *

**Hey! So to answer Russia's question: Belarus got 60% of the fallout. It some ways, they pulled an even shorter stick.**

**I was going to do more with Russia's view seeing China for the first time in a while, but I decided to put more observations of Russia because I think he would be to shocked and mildly delirious to notice what China was wearing.**

**Also I changed the title and description because I don't know if I'm actually gonna incorporate sunflowers into the story. It's an interesting factoid but it's not the point.**

**HOW ABOUT THOSE REVIEWS, HEY?**

**Tre Corde - Yaaay~! I love that I'm educating via fanfic! I hope you learn a lot, cause I've learned a lot through researching this too. Thank you very much for saying that I struck the balance between gritty realism and the carefree cannon. That's exactly what I'm trying to do. I want this to be realistic without loosing the characters. China's been particularly hard to keep to, because people often turn him into a pushover. He's not though! I'm trying to keep to his excitable personality without making him...well...a woman. I hope I did a good job in this chapter too, thanks so much for your review!**

**SO LET'S GET SOME OTHER REVIEWS TOO PLEASE. :3**


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